The Fighter's Law dictates that when two combatants are locked in combat, that the winner of the fight becomes the owner of the loser. Simple, easy, a...d clean. Just winners, losers, owners, and slaves. It's a wonder how something so simple fucked everything up so royally.The Fighter's Law was an edict declared by the God of Conquest, whether it was an act of contempt or one of shear boredom matters not anymore, to survive is the only option for the inhabitants of New Heartland.And now, the. He had the upper hand. She knew it and thought that maybe one more drink with the Coach might help. At lease she could get a better feel for where he was going with it. If it came down to it, she could probably keep his silence with a quick hand job.Coach opened the door to his room for her and she entered. He poured them another cocktail and they settled at the small table in the corner of the room. One thing led to another and before long, two more cocktails were empty and an hour had past.. He gave me a rather strange look when he handed me the keys to the house. I thanked him and left.When I got to the house, Billy Ray's trucks were parked there, and his men were sitting on the lawn waiting. They didn't look like much, but were fantastic at painting and remodeling. Billy Ray didn't recognize me when I got out of the car."Billy Ray," I said, "thanks for coming." Jesus, Jim. You sure look different in that uniform," he said, as we shook hands."Still the same old me," I assured him.. "So you want a better grade?" Mr. J puncutates his statement with another slap, this time on the left cheek."Yesss..." Yes what?" another slap."Yes sir!" Then I have an idea for you."Mr. J pulls down his zipper, pulling his hardening cock through the slit in his boxers. He then rubs his naked dick between her wet lips, covered only by the thin g string.Veronica moans, and reaches back for his cock. He spanks her, scolding her, "Put your hands on the desk." Yes, sir."He pulls off her gstring,.